Eight Intertwined II

218 - Succor

Alfyn staggered back by a few steps at Ogen's tale. He could feel the shock written all over his face, and Ogen could read it too. "Those were his words to me," Ogen confirmed as if Alfyn needed to hear it again. In a few ways, Alfyn was sure he did. "It's the damnedest thing, but... Somehow you remind me of him."

"Gods above...!" Alfyn muttered, his hand rising to cover his mouth. "Those words... I heard them too when I was just a boy..."

Ogen arched an eyebrow. "You did...?"

Alfyn nodded. "There's no doubt about it... That's the man who saved my life!" His hands had begun to shake furiously, but he didn't even bother with trying to still them. "When I was little, I got real sick with the same thing you have right now. He passed through town, and he had the ingredients for the cure on hand. He made it for me, and then... He told me that he wanted to help someone in a bind. He never asked for payment or anythin' else in return. He just... Cured me and left."

Alfyn still remembered it like it was yesterday. The first thing he ever truly recalled after he broke free of the haze of his sickness was the gentle face of the man who saved his life. He remembered thanking the man, and he asked why anyone would bother with saving the life of a poor boy who had never known much more than the roof over his head. His mother had told him upfront that they didn't have any money, and Alfyn pushed the point too. The response the man gave him would drive him for the next decade and a half, and Alfyn was certain it would drive him ever onward for the rest of his days too. 

"Listen, son, and listen well. I saw someone in a bind, and I helped him out. Simple as that."

Alfyn had smiled with a whispered "shucks" and hoped that he would be able to do it too one day. The tenderness in the man's eyes had only grown, as he rose to his feet and started to gather his supplies. Even as the stranger left town, Alfyn thought about how he had never met anyone like that before. Few people cared much for Clearbrook, a town so small that a stiff wind could have knocked it right off the map. That man had chosen to stop there and had used his valuable supplies on saving the life of a boy he had never met and would never see again. Alfyn had never met anyone like that before then, and he hadn't met anyone exactly like that apothecary since then either. With not only his potions but the words he spoke, the man had saved Alfyn's life. 

But beyond that, he had given Alfyn a new purpose. 

He had given Alfyn his work as an apothecary. 

He had given Alfyn his friends. 

He had given Alfyn his life. 

Ogen remained silent for a long moment in the wake of Alfyn's babbling story. When he finally spoke up, it was with a sad gleam in his eyes. "Fate truly does work in mysterious ways..."

"Tell me more about him, Ogen," Alfyn pleaded. "I... I don't even know his name..."

"Graham was his name," Ogen replied. "Graham Crossford. It was ten years ago that I first met him. He was traveling the realm the same as I. We ran into one another a few times. He told me he was searching for a remedy for his dear wife who had been struck with a deadly malady. His skill with mixing salves and brewing elixirs was like nothing I had ever seen. He traveled from town to town, healing the sick and wounded at every turn. He managed to fashion the elixir he sought in just two short years on top of all that... But he was too late. His beloved had already passed on, never to return. He told me the story of a bright young boy to whom he eventually gave the medicine. To think I'd meet that boy in the flesh one day..."

Alfyn didn't realize tears had risen to his eyes until after they began to stream down his cheeks. Ogen most certainly noticed them but chose to not comment on it much to Alfyn's gratitude and relief. "After he saved my life, he wandered off again to who knows where. Word has it that he later passed on to meet his love."